[ Lyrics ]

I won’t say I miss you…

…but I listen to your voice note.

Screen glow on the ceiling, 3:17 again,
coffee cold from midnight, ghost of where we’ve been.
Found that old recording—your laugh cuts through the line,
said, ‘Call me if you need me,’ but you changed your number twice.
I keep it like a relic, play it when the room gets loud,
like you’re still in the silence, like you’re whispering aloud.
You knew my middle name, the one I never share,
now I type it in the Notes app just to prove I’m still there.

I won’t say I need you—

won’t say I regret you—

But I press play in the dark,
and for three minutes, I’m not just a spark
someone left behind in the aftermath.

I won’t say I miss you, but I listen to your voice note,
rewind the part where you called me ‘home’—then I float.
I won’t say I love you, but I know every tone,
every pause, every joke in the messages I’ve known.

Remember how I promised I’d never save your texts?
Now they’re filed under ‘Memories’—cross-referenced with regrets.
Saw your friend post a story—you’re hiking somewhere new,
no caption, no filter, just you and the view.
And I wonder if you ever press back on my name,
or if I’m just background noise in the playlist of your escape.
I used to hate the quiet, now I live in the hush,
editing my silence like it’s not worth much.

I won’t say you broke me—

won’t say I forgive you—

But I press play in the dark,
and for three minutes, I’m not just a spark
someone left behind in the aftermath.

Is it love or just addiction to the way you said my name?
Is it grief or just habit keeping your flame in my brain?
I don’t want you back, I just… don’t want to be erased.
Don’t want to be the one you deleted without a trace.

I won’t say I miss you, but I listen to your voice note,
listen to you say, ‘Hey, you up?’—then I float.
I won’t say I love you, but I know every tone,
every crack, every breath I’ve replayed on my own.

I won’t say it… I won’t say it…

Still won’t say it.
3:17 AM (I Won’t Say It)

[ Lyrics ]
